Brownie loving, crazed shopoholic, hormonal, moody and incurably romantic in life, this is where you'll find random crap, more bitching and some old nostalgia ill try to pass off as advice! Read at your own risk!

Friday, May 10, 2013

I wonder if sadness changes as we grow up. Maybe crying isnt enough. I realize that I rarely cry now. Most things that go wrong I handle with a quiet empty dull ache in my stomach. Most people who leave me or who I leave I replace with new acquaintances, most thoughts I'll replace with anything BUT what's really on my mind. Because running away from it all is the adult thing to do?

I've gotten so clinical at breaking up, letting go... its like I assume there is a constant churn in our lives. Like people are meant to come and go and thats the natural rythmn to life.. that's the way its meant to be. I don't fight to hold on anymore, and assume it didnt work out because its a sign or there are better things coming. Mostly its because I'm afraid to fight reall hard for something and want it with all my heart and still lose. It's tough - to put yourself out there and leave your emotions in someone else's control, to be vulnerable. I prefer pretending I didn't want it that much anyway - because if I pretend long enough, I'll believe it.

Ended things with P last night. For good. For ever. I was probably fooling myself that he'd come around, that he'd realize we could've been good together.I took a step with him last year - to let go and be vulnerable. to free fall and enjoy that heady intoxicating rush of heading speedily towards a giant climax. I put away my usual in-control self to be this new person who trusts someone else with her heart. it broke. and ground into paste.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

I'm a bad habit. His. It's amazing how its been a year since P happened and he still isn't history. This despite a YEAR of being in different cities, dating other people, breaking up about 5 times [ even though we dated only once ..]. Despite it all, he wont let go of me. And I let him hold on. I'm a bad habit, a drug he needs every now and then, knowing I'll be there gives him that energy, that boost of security, of comfort.

He never committed. He couldn't then, and he can't now. I can feel it. I can feel him paralyzed by immobility and inability. Funny thing is, I'M the REAL idiot here, not he. Through his excuses, reasons, perfectly sounding explanations I kept letting him back in. and Now, no more. I deserve better than this.

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